


Lietpol Week: History

by postmanbutters



Series: Lietpol Week 2k18 [7]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Flappers, Historical Hetalia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prohibition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 10:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13715661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postmanbutters/pseuds/postmanbutters
Summary: “Dude! Relax,” His hand was on Lithuania’s shoulder again, squeezing comfortingly, “I get it. Ex’s. Y’know.” He shrugged in a noncommittal way that displayed he absolutely did not get it.the roaring twenties are in full swing, and america throws a new year’s party. the only problem: poland is invited.





	Lietpol Week: History

**Author's Note:**

> whew day 7!!! i can’t believe i actually finished!!! this is a fic based on the awful relations between poland and lithuania between 1919-1938 (when they reinstated diplomatic relations).

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” Britain had said in the stern way he always seemed to speak to America. 

“Well, I just don’t see why not!” America was boisterous as ever, causing several other countries to turn this heads at the commotion. Britain tilted his head down and lowered his voice even further, America had to lean in to hear,

“It’s just that...” He took a breath, “They have history.” 

America laughed at this, “Don’t we all?” 

Britain set his jaw, “You don’t get it.” And then left him alone at the table.

The year was 1922, soon to be 1923, and America was going to be throwing the largest New Year’s Eve party yet at his house (prohibition be damned).

Lithuania, who’d been living with him, was going to- of course- be a guest of honor, which was apparently the big issue.

The problem with Lithuania was, he let America do most of the talking, which he’d never thought of as a problem! He loved to talk. But now that he thought about it, he didn’t really even know too much about him.

He knew Lithuania had been married to Poland. He knew that Lithuania had been at Russia’s- not of his own decision- and that he was now newly independent and needed somewhere to stay. 

And knowing all that- he still couldn’t understand why he couldn’t invite Poland to his damn party! 

Poland was fun, he’d always had a great time with Poland, he knew he liked to dress up and that he could hold his liquor- so naturally, America had already slipped him an invite! It would be incredibly uncomfortable to try to take it back, but here Britain was, insisting he did. 

What could possibly go wrong? 

-

“Are you nervous, or something?” America was leaning against the door frame, looking like a war hero, as always. His formal wear was half on, tie slung around his neck in a way that seemed so effortlessly cool. 

Lithuania felt self-conscious in his brown, decidedly unfashionable slacks. He tightened his tie. 

“I’m not the best in crowds,” He replied, keeping his eyes on the ground. He had to get better at eye contact, again. He made a note of it. Thankfully, America didn’t comment on it. 

“You’ll do great!” He was grinning that carelessly sideway smile again, and Lithuania found himself feeling more and more inadequate.

He’d been tipped off at the meeting that Poland would be attending as well, even though America had skirted around the fact. It was America’s house, America’s party, he would never and could never object to what kind of guests he liked to host in his house, however, it did make his stomach flip in an entirely different kind of way. 

He’d never imagined that his relations with Poland, who he’d shared most of his life with, would ever crumble so badly. The stress of it made his hands shake. To his embarrassment the League of Nations had, several times, been forced to smooth over their arguments. His face burned. Tonight wouldn’t be like that. Tonight, for America, he would be on his best behavior.

There were times that it was impossible to separate himself, Tolys, from Lithuania, his being. It was a kind of duality that existed sometimes, completely in tandem, and other times, all backwards. He had never spoken to anyone else about it, never learned how anyone else managed. 

Politically, Poland was infuriating. With Vilnius, the Sejny Uprising, his newly independent statehood- it was as if he couldn’t catch a break. But personally, of course he held some sort of tenderness towards him. They’d shared a marriage bed, a bond deeper than he had ever experienced with another. It was hard not to think of Poland in a soft light when he remembered how they’d been young and tumbled together in rye fields and learned to make love. Stupid. 

He combed his hair, trying to at least look more put together than he felt. 

Poland had to have the same feeling, the rift inside. If he could, maybe he’d ask him. Or maybe, Poland hated him and would refuse to speak to him. Maybe Poland wouldn’t even show up.

He shuddered at the thought and slipped into his suit jacket. At least Russia wasn’t invited. 

-

Of course, Poland was late. 

Lithuania was drunker than he'd meant to be. He’d poured himself shaky glass after shaky glass of whatever awful drink America had managed to supply his party with. He’d been getting more anxious every hour, but at the height of everyone’s giddy merriment and about an hour before midnight struck, Poland burst through the door.

He was dressed fantastically. Beads, pearls, sparkles. He shimmered with every step. Even his shoes, tiny heeled sleepers with a puff of feathers on each toe that his headband somehow matched entirely. He wore black and silver. A flapper costume. Of course. 

“America! Oh my god, thanks for the invite!” He kissed him on the cheek, which had somewhat temporarily stunned him, an incredibly difficult feat, “It’s totally glamorous in here. You are the best at parties.” 

“Oh- uh, anytime, Poland,” His large hand clapped Poland on his dainty back, “Can I get you a drink?” 

“Duh!” And then he was gone, disappearing into the crowd like some kind of beautiful, ridiculous ghost. 

Oh, god. Lithuania was going to be sick. 

He hurried to the nearest outlet- America’s balcony, and promptly vomited off the side. 

“What’s the matter with you?” 

He looked up to find Prussia, looking quite revolted. 

“... Nothing.” He stood, and wiped his mouth. 

“I saw Poland come in.” Prussia had a kind of smirk on his face that meant he knew exactly what he was saying, although he didn’t say it. 

“Shut up.” Lithuania could not have been in a worse mood, but, it had been a while since he’d spoken to somebody with that kind of conviction. Maybe the alcohol was doing him some good, after all.

Prussia raised his eyebrows, and then rolled his eyes. Lithuania took a deep breath of fresh air. His puke had, thankfully, landed in some bush, and not on anyone’s lap. Most of the people outside were congregated around America’s pool, which was teeming with drunken activity. 

“He looks good-“

“-I know.” And Lithuania was gone, storming back into the house. 

He fetched himself a glass of water from the kitchen, bustling with people. He rinsed his mouth in the sink and took a moment to concentrate on his breathing, to calm down. 

‘Maybe if Poland wasn’t so damn beautiful’, was mostly what he found himself thinking, and he splashed himself in the face with cool water. 

He felt a strong hand on his back and froze, until he realized the familiarity of it. 

“Drink too much?” It was America, giddy with the atmosphere, “Poland made it, did you see?” He whistled under his breath, “Quite a looker, huh?” 

“Dammit!” Lithuania swore before he could stop himself, and America’s eyes widened. He’d never spoken like that in front of him before, “I’m sorry- America, I hadn’t meant to-“ 

“Dude! Relax,” His hand was on Lithuania’s shoulder again, squeezing comfortingly, “I get it. Ex’s. Y’know.” He shrugged in a noncommittal way that displayed he absolutely did not get it.

“Um, yes.” He swallowed, his heart rate finally going back to normal. At least he hadn’t been mad.

“I think I’m- going to talk to him.” 

“Oh, buddy-“ America reached out to try to stop him, grasping at air, “I think maybe- maybe you might wanna wait! Rethink that!” But Lithuania hadn’t heard him. 

Poland was on the couch, doing only what could be considered entertaining. Italy and France were on either side of him, both paying extreme attention to him, but not actually listening to a word he said. 

“- And it was totally ridiculous. You get it, right?” France was nodding and snaking an arm around Poland’s bare shoulders, “It’s, like, if you haven’t even been there before, don’t try to tell me-“ 

“Polska.” France, Italy, and Poland all whipped their heads towards Lithuania, looking somewhat stunned. 

Poland stared for a long, quiet moment. Lithuania thought he could see something shift in his eyes, but he wasn’t sure. 

Poland had always liked to ‘entertain’, but that wasn’t entirely the truth. Poland liked to put on aires, he liked to make a good impression, he liked- desperately- when people liked him, but Lithuania knew of Poland’s private anxieties. His nervousness in front of new people. The bravado he put on. Lithuania knew him better than anyone. 

“Do you need something?” Poland’s eyes had narrowed slightly. It was a dangerous look. 

“I want to talk.” 

He could see, by the way Poland tilted his head, that he was considering it. His headband was slightly off kilter and Lithuania hoped to all the gods that no one had done that for him.

“Excuse me, boys.” Poland was setting his drink on the coffee table, pulling his purse over his shoulder. 

He got up, bidding little half goodbyes to his crowd, and crossed the room to where Lithuania stood. 

“Where?” 

Lithuania swallowed. He hadn’t actually considered that he might get this far. He let out a long breath. 

“Um. Come with me.” He turned, marching down the hall and up the stairs and only hoping that Poland would follow. 

He hadn’t really had much of an idea of what to do once he got Poland to speak to him. He didn’t really know what he wanted to say, but he lead him up to his modest room all the same, and Poland followed. His head was swimming, he tried hard to stay focused. 

“What’s to talk about?” Poland’s voice had a bite to it, and he watched as Lithuania sat down on his twin bed, head in his hands.

“I just- ah, I don’t,” He winced, trying not to look at Poland. He’d just die if he looked at him, “I feel stupid. I’ve ruined your good time.”

“I wasn’t even having a good time.” He crosses his arms and sits on the floor, frowning, “I was having, like, a super shitty time. I shouldn’t have even come.” 

“Don’t say that.” He chides, and he can feel Poland shifting. Wearing a dress with all those beads couldn’t have been comfortable. He could imagine you’d have to be quite careful in it. Especially at a party. 

“I only wanted to come to make you mad.” He said, and sounded a bit ashamed for it.

“Oh.” Lithuania replied morosely.

“That’s dumb, isn’t it?” 

“A little.” He sighed, laughing nervously, and then finally looked over at Poland. 

He looked a bit less otherworldly flopped onto the ground. It was easier to talk to him, like this. Not that they’d been talking at all. 

“I don’t want it to be like this, Polska...”

“Don’t say that. You say that like I want it to be like this. I don’t. It just is.” 

Lithuania sighed. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” 

Poland was silent for a moment. He reached up and fumbled with his hair, taking out a bobby-pin and gently removing the jeweled headband, “This outfit is giving me a headache.” He held it limply in his lap, looking very much like a sad, spoiled prince who’d had his crown taken away. 

“All anyone’s been talking about all night is your damn outfit.” 

“I guess it did its job, then.” 

Lithuania scowled and ran his hand through his hair, a stress habit. 

“I’m going to be so hungover tomorrow...” He groaned, “Oh- god, what am I doing?” 

It was as if he’d suddenly become aware of his situation, of Poland on the ground, only two feet away. 

“Oh, relax, old man.” Poland quipped, letting his head loll against the wall, staring languidly up at the ceiling, “Maybe you shouldn’t have, but you did.” 

“Jesus. Jesus Christ.” 

Poland gravely crossed himself. 

“Y’know- I just. I just want to separate us, so you get what I’m saying? I’m so sick of this shit,” He was mumbling, “Because you’re mad at me, and I’m mad at you... but- but, it’s our people, y’know? It’s political. It’s not us. Do you get it?” 

“It’s hard to separate-“ 

“I know, I know,” Lithuania let out the loudest sigh yet, “It’s hard. But why can’t- why can’t we just be two people at a party- y’know? Why is everything always like this?” God, he was much drunker than he wanted to be. 

“Sometimes it’s personal.” 

“But does it have to be? Polska? We haven’t spoken in months... remember how you used to wake me up in the morning?” 

Poland let out a pitiful sound, somewhat of an angry whimper. 

“Of course I remember- Liet, you’re a total mess right now. You’re so going to regret this in the morning.”

“Trust me. I know.”

He heard a rustle, felt a dip in the bed, and then Poland was sitting next to him, close enough for him to smell his perfume. It wasn’t the kind he used to wear. Lithuania wrinkled his nose. 

“What do you want?” 

Lithuania felt his chest deflate and leaned back against the wall behind him, although it was somewhat uncomfortable to be propped up, “I don’t know. Don’t think I don’t miss you, or anything. I just- politically-“

“-Yeah, I know.” He could feel his shoulders brushing up against Poland’s. He felt like Poland was thinner than usual, and it was uncomfortable to notice a difference in him he hadn’t personally witnessed. 

“Are you well?” Lithuania asked, turning towards him, looking him in the eye for what felt like the first time.

“I’m... fine.” Poland looked somewhat teary, and Lithuania regretted asking, “And you?” 

“Fine. America’s home is very nice.” He saw Poland bite his bottom lip and knew that was the warning of a real crying fit. 

“Does he- he treat you well?” That pink bottom lip was trembling.

“Yes. He’s very kind.” 

“Good.” Poland said the word good, but he clearly didn’t mean it, because he was hiccuping and crying, mascara tracking down his cheeks. 

“Oh- Polska,” Even after all this time, Poland crying was definitely a weak spot. He hated to see him cry. 

Despite the enormous rift between them, he couldn’t help but wrap his arms around Poland’s shoulders. Poland came willingly, letting his teary face fall into Lithuania’s chest, and he held him there. 

“I just- like, really miss-!” He spoke between wracking sobs, barely able to get out the words.

“I know, I know, shh,” Lithuania rubbed Poland’s back, being careful with the strings of beads, until his cries began to quiet. 

It felt strange to be alone together and so close when he could hear the party going on only just downstairs. It reminded him of being young and sneaking off from their royal duties, only to mess around in some linen closet. 

“Liet- can we try?” Poland seemed like he was trying very hard to steady his breathing, “Can we try tonight to just. Be people. Can we?” 

Lithuania chewed the inside of his cheek, wondering if whether or not he would regret this choice tomorrow.

“I suppose we can try.” 

Poland leaned up, he was so close now, he could see the tears glistening on his cheeks. And then closer, he could smell the salt from them, and closer still, he could taste them. Kissing Poland was an art Lithuania had perfected and as their lips met, it was like no time had passed between them at all. 

Poland’s wet eyes were shut, but Lithuania kept his open, wanting to look, to verify that Poland was truly in front of him, really kissing him. 

He parted his lips slightly, tasting him, and was so incredibly relieved to find that he tasted the same as always. His darling Polska. 

Poland pulled back, taking in a sharp breath, and wiped his cheeks, smudging his already ruined makeup, “Do you want to have sex?” He asked, looking very pitiful. 

Lithuania’s lips tightened and his eyes flicked downward. 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” But he took Poland into his arms, anyways, and laid down. His bed was quite small, so Poland was almost entirely resting against his chest. He didn’t mind.

“Alright.” Poland replied, softly, and that was fine.

They kissed and held each other until they both fell asleep, despite the cheers from downstairs that celebrated the stroke of midnight. 

In the morning, Poland snuck out carefully, not jostling Lithuania as he slept and taking his shoes off to be silent. He passed by people passed out on the couch, slumped onto the ground, but America was awake, having a cup of coffee. 

“Did you have fun?” He called, grinning from ear to ear, fresh as if he hadn’t just stayed up the entire night partying. 

Poland smiled weakly, looking a bit embarrassed at having been caught. He attempted to straighten his hair. 

“Um. Yeah, totally! Thanks for the invite, America!” 

America winked at him, and he left. That was the last time he kissed Lithuania for a very long time.


End file.
